


Misfire

by vials



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Angst, Gen, could be a missing scene if you want to be really depressing, honestly this is just miserable & wretched I love taking sad things and making them sadder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28929342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: Jay doesn't die right away, and Alex doesn't leave him. There's time to talk, but not enough.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	Misfire

It would have been over immediately, if Jay hadn’t chosen that precise moment to say Alex’s name.

Alex didn’t know what he had expected. Did he think Jay would just accept what he was seeing with no issue whatsoever? Really, the fact that he had only said his name was a blessing. It could have been so much worse. He could have screamed, or panicked, or tried to run. He didn’t do any of those things. Perhaps that was what was so bad about it; what made it hurt enough that Alex lost his one shot at ending it quickly. Thinking about it, a scream would have been expected. A curse, ducking and trying to run… it would have all been something Alex could deal with.

What he hadn’t been able to deal with – what he hadn’t even banked on – was the fact that Jay said his name, and in that one word there was more confusion than Alex had ever heard in his life. Jay wasn’t just saying his name; there were a million questions in those two syllables. _Why?_ and _Are you really doing this?_ and _Is this actually you?_ and _How could you do this?_ and _How could you be this?_ and _How could you do this to_ me _?_

If it hadn’t been for that one word, Alex would have shot Jay in the head. It would have been over as quickly as that; Alex wouldn’t have even had to see him hit the ground. It was a clear shot, an easy shot; Alex was used to the gun, used to how it felt to kill someone. He had killed people in ways much worse than this. Compared to strangling someone or smashing their head in with a rock, firing a gun was simple. It was almost impersonal, but at the very least he hadn’t been stupid enough to think that it would still be impersonal with Jay. There was a reason he had waited this long; waited until everything was reaching its inevitable conclusion. There wouldn’t be long to wait, that way. If it were up to Alex he would have left Jay until last, but he had seen the videos. He had seen what had happened. He knew Jay had the least time of any of them.

No, it had to be this way. Alex could deal with Tim quickly; he knew where to find him. Then it would just be the matter of himself, but again – a gun was simple. Alex had only practised it a dozen times. He was so used to feeling that metal against his head that he didn’t even flinch anymore. Truthfully, he was looking forward to it.

He should have known that nothing would ever be so simple.

Jay hadn’t had time to react, other than saying his name. He was still standing there, frozen, when the gun went off. Only the bullet didn’t hit him in the head, like Alex had hoped for; like he had been aiming for, like he had been counting on. Instead it struck Jay somewhere in the abdomen, very nearly missing him entirely; Alex saw the strange flash there, the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment where there had been regular clothing one second, and a jagged tear the next. Somehow Alex had hit too low, and after the split second of dreaded realisation had passed he understood how it had happened. Jay’s voice had done it; made him flinch, perhaps, or maybe even subconsciously try to save him.

Instead, he just hadn’t died right away.

Alex had never prepared for _this_. All the other times had been different – it had been something instant, or it had been a case of not really being there at all. He didn’t remember the details of killing that man in the tunnel, for example – he knew he had done it, but when he tried to think back to the specifics, to holding the rock and actually bringing it down on the man’s head, he couldn’t remember. He had been operating on pure fear, on pure rage. Only a shadowed memory of the event remained, and that was how Alex preferred it. He had never had to deal with this before; never had to deal with the person knowing what had happened, knowing who had done it. He could have shot Jay again, could have walked right up to him and ended it quickly, but to his eternal shame Alex found himself frozen to the spot.

It took Jay a moment to realise what had happened. He stumbled backwards and slightly to the side with the impact; when he hit the wall he slid down it, landing heavily on the floor. He did not let go of the camera. Alex thought about walking away, but he was still frozen, unable to look anywhere else but Jay’s hand. It had gone to his side, pressing against the tear in the clothing, coming away red with blood. The hand stilled in disbelief, and then Jay looked up, his eyes immediately finding Alex’s, and there was still no pain there.

He was still just confused.

“Alex?”

It was the same voice, if a little smaller now. All confusion, all disbelief. Alex had actually done it, he’d actually shot him, and still Jay couldn’t believe it had happened. Alex wanted to scream. It was easier when they hated him. Why did Jay have to act like this was still completely outside his understanding of Alex? Out of nowhere Alex remembered that Jay had done this for him, all of it, every last bit of it – he had wanted to find him, wanted to help him. How was he supposed to know there was nothing he could do?

“I—” Alex began, but he cut himself off. What was he going to say? That he was _sorry_?

“Alex,” Jay said quietly, the name more a sigh now.

Alex hoped he would die then. He hoped that would be it; he found himself wishing that Jay would simply slump to the side, and there would be no more. He felt terrible even as he thought it, and there was a sudden urge to go to Jay, to try and stop the bleeding, to try and work something out. There had to be something that could be done – it couldn’t end like this. Even as Alex thought it, he knew it was no good. He had committed to this a long time ago. He forced himself to remain still, realising he was gripping the gun so tightly his hand was shaking.

_Just go_ , he willed Jay. _Don’t make this any harder._

Jay looked back at his bloodied fingers and let out something that sounded like it could be a laugh or a sob. Alex sincerely didn’t know which one would be worse. Then Jay glanced at him again, saw him still holding the gun, and finally there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. He gripped the camera tightly in one hand, his other pressing against the wound, and pushed himself backwards with his feet. Alex felt his hand twitch as though he might be thinking about raising the gun, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually do it.

_Come_ on _,_ he told himself. _Just end it now. What good will dragging it on be?_

“Jay,” he said, though he wasn’t sure why. Was he thinking about asking him to stop? About telling him to take it easy? Or maybe he just didn’t want to shoot somebody who was crawling away from him in panic. He didn’t know; he’d never had to deal with this before. “ _Jay_.”

“Get away from me,” Jay said. His voice sounded wheezy, and Alex was sure he could see blood on his teeth. “Alex. _Get away from me._ ”

Somehow Alex managed to raise the gun. He should have just fired, should have done it immediately, as soon as the gun was levelled, but his finger wouldn’t listen to him. His arm felt like lead, his hand too far away to be called his. He managed to take a step forward, but only one. It would be too easy to catch up to Jay when he was in this state; too easy to press the gun against his head – and then what? Would he still find himself unable to do it? What was he supposed to do in this situation? It was like trying to put an animal out of its misery but wringing its neck wrong. He had only made things worse.

“God damn it,” he muttered. “God _damn_ it. _Jay_!”

Jay froze, something in Alex’s voice making him look up. His eyes were wide again, filled with more of that disbelief, and Alex couldn’t stand it. He stumbled forward, bringing his other hand around to steady the gun, and Jay rolled over in a sudden surge of energy and managed to crawl, throwing himself into one of the rooms. Alex caught up to the door just as Jay kicked it closed behind him; he threw his shoulder against it, but Jay was pressing back on the other side with surprising strength.

_There’s still fight in him_ , said a voice in Alex’s head that he did not want to listen to. _You could still do something. You could still save him; try to work something out._

“Too late,” Alex whispered. “It’s too late.”

He pushed against the door again, managing to open it a crack, but then it slammed shut with sudden force. Alex could hear Jay’s ragged breathing, hear how much effort it was taking him. He had to wonder what Jay thought he would achieve. He would have to sit pressed up against the door indefinitely if he wanted to keep Alex out; he must know that Alex wasn’t going to just turn around and walk away. What did he hope would happen? He must know he was only prolonging his life by a few minutes at most.

“Jay,” Alex said quietly. “Open the door.”

Jay laughed. It was a ragged sound that Alex had never heard from him before, slightly crazed around the edges, and Alex wondered how much of it was pain and shock and how much of it was whatever else was going on with him; was whatever Alex had seen in those videos. The memory of it briefly strengthened his resolve, confirmation that this was the only way. There was no going back from that. Once that thing had someone, there was only one way to escape it.

“Jay,” Alex said, pressing himself against the door. It occurred to him that he could just shoot through it, but he deliberately ignored the thought. “This is not the worst way it could end.”

Jay laughed again.

“You know what’s happened to you,” Alex continued, his voice even and almost soothing, like he was trying to gain the trust of an injured stray. “You _know_ , Jay. You have to know there’s no going back. This is—this is better. It doesn’t seem like it, but… but it is.”

“No,” Jay wheezed. “What’s—what’s _wrong_ with you?”

Alex swallowed. He didn’t really have any answer for that.

“It was _you_ ,” Jay continued. There was still a note of disbelief in his voice. “You—you killed all of them. Seth, and Sarah, and Brian, and Amy, and Jessica, and—and you tried to kill Tim, and you tried to kill me.”

“It was for the best,” Alex said. He was leaning his whole weight against the door; he could barely hold himself upright. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I thought—I thought it would be better than that thing—”

“ _You don’t have the right to make that choice_!” Jay hissed, and then he was coughing; horrible, wet coughs that Alex knew would bring up blood. His injury, or something else?

Alex closed his eyes. There was no time.

“Jay,” Alex said firmly. “It will come for you.”

“No.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Alex stressed. “There is no escape, Jay. This is the only way.”

“No. No, there’s always—”

“No, there _isn’t_!” Alex yelled, smacking his palm against the door. “For God’s sake, Jay, there isn’t! Do you think I’d be doing this if there was?”

“Why do you get the right?” Jay yelled back. “Why do you get to live, and—”

“I _won’t_!” Alex snapped. “I won’t, Jay! We all die! This is how it ends. Once I’ve—once Tim’s—once Tim’s gone, I’ll kill myself.”

Jay laughed, but this time Alex heard the sob there, too. “You’re crazy.”

“No,” Alex said. “No, Jay. Crazy is thinking there’s any other way.” He leaned his head against the door, his voice barely a whisper. “You should have burned those tapes.”

“Yeah,” Jay said bitterly. “You don’t have to tell me.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Alex briefly closed his eyes again, steadying his breath. He knew what he had to do. It was simple, if he just did it one step at a time, quickly, before he could think too much about it. It wouldn’t take too much to get through the door. Jay barely weighed anything at all, and adrenaline couldn’t last forever. All Alex had to do was force the door open and fire the gun once. This time he would not miss.

He could hear Jay’s ragged breathing, and he waited until he heard it hitch slightly as Jay shifted his weight. Then he threw his shoulder against the door again, meeting a moment of resistance that came far too late. Alex managed to get the door open enough that he could slip through, but before he could raise the gun Jay kicked out at him, catching him with surprising force on the ankle. Alex stumbled against the door, slamming it closed again, only just managing to keep his balance; Jay pushed himself backwards with his feet again, but Alex could see his movements were sluggish, the front of his clothing soaked through with dark blood.

_You could just leave_ , Alex thought suddenly, watching him. _He’s done for._

But he had left others before, and it had doomed them. Alex swallowed hard, angry with himself for constantly trying to find a way out. Even after everything, he was searching for a way out. Why couldn’t he just accept this was how it had to be?

“This is—it’s for the best, Jay,” he said quietly.

Jay shook his head. “You don’t get to make that choice.”

“Yes I do,” Alex said. “Nobody else will.”

“Who gave you the right?” Jay demanded, and for a moment he looked angry; angry enough to jump up and throw himself at Alex. In a second the moment passed and he was exhausted again, frail, dark shadows under his eyes. “Who… who decided…?”

“I did,” Alex said. “I didn’t want to do it.”

“So then don’t.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

_Why are you talking to him? Just shoot!_

“It—if I leave you now, that thing will come for you. I don’t know what it’ll do, but it’s bad.” Alex swallowed. “Do you—do you _want_ to go with that thing?”

Jay stared at him. He was breathing shallowly, his fingers pressed against the wound but doing little to stop the blood. In his other hand he still held the camera, the red light constant. Alex watched him for a moment, and then he finally saw it – that flicker of horror, of fear.

“You know you don’t want that for yourself,” Alex said quietly. “Nobody does.”

“The pills,” Jay croaked. “Tim said—”

“So maybe they work now,” Alex cut in. “Alright. Maybe they do. But what about if they don’t? Or what about if you miss a dose? It can just—just move in on you again, whenever it wants. You saw the tape, you saw what happened when Amy found that camera. Years with nothing, and then—there it was, in my—in the _house_. You’ll spend your life running from this thing, Jay, and it’ll catch you in the end.”

Jay said nothing, the only sound his hitching breaths.

“It’s easier like this,” Alex said. “It’s kinder.”

“What do you want?” Jay demanded suddenly. “Do you want permission to kill me, Alex?”

It was Alex’s turn to remain silent. He supposed Jay was right. What _was_ he looking for, with this?

“It would be easier if you understood,” he eventually said. “Nobody else—nobody else understood.”

“Poor you,” Jay said coolly.

“You don’t know what it was like!” Alex snapped. “Nobody else—nobody else remembered! None of you! I was the only one who knew something strange was going on. I was the only one who saw you all going to pieces – who saw Tim getting sicker, who saw you all losing time, losing your memories. I was the only person who remembered that thing, who knew to look out for it. Do you have any _idea_ what that was like? I would see—I would see horrific things, things you couldn’t even imagine, and then ten minutes later none of you would remember and _I would_! Do you have any _idea_ —”

He broke off, a sudden twinge in his head sending a jolt of fear through him. He reached up, pressing his fingers against his temple, breathing through the pain and the nausea. The room seemed to tilt around him, the pain briefly the only thing he could think of – a stabbing pain, deep in his skull, white-hot and gone as quickly as it arrived.

“We don’t have time,” Alex said, his voice sounding distant, uneven. “I’m—I’m sorry, Jay.”

Jay was still watching him, but there was something wrong with the gaze. His eyes seemed glazed; unfocused. Alex watched for a moment, seeing them slide slowly from his face and to the door, and the realisation spread through Alex like ice. He could feel what was on the other side of it; feel the room tilting to meet it, centring itself around it. Alex tried to move the gun but couldn’t; he forced himself to walk towards Jay, but every step was an effort.

_It knows_ , he thought vaguely, some of his panic dulled. _It knows what you’re doing and it doesn’t like it._

Alex had the sudden urge to simply sit on the ground; prop himself up against the wall and take a break. He was so tired, so heavy… it would be easier to sleep, but he forced himself to move all the same. He dropped to his knees beside Jay, hitting the ground far too heavily, letting the gun fall from his grip and to the floor.

“Jay,” he said quietly, the word an extreme effort. “Trust me.”

It seemed a ridiculous thing to say, and Alex had no idea if Jay had decided to do so, realised he had nothing left to lose, or if his strength had simply left him. Either way he made no attempt to resist as Alex reached out and took him firmly by the wrist, moving his hand away from the wound. It hadn’t been doing much good, but it had been doing some; Alex saw the flow of blood increase as he moved Jay’s hand away, pressing his arm against his lap and holding it there. Jay made one weak attempt to pull free, and then gave up.

“It’s OK,” Alex murmured. “It’s better this way. It’s better, Jay. It’ll be alright.”

Jay’s eyes briefly met Alex’s, glazed and panicked, and then slipped back to the door. Behind him, Alex heard it creak; heard it opening, painfully slowly. Jay’s eyes widened and he whimpered, and Alex forced himself to move, putting himself between Jay and the door.

“Look at me,” he said, reaching out with his free hand and tilting Jay’s head back towards him. “Just look at me.”

Another stab of pain in his head; Alex winced, breathing slowly. This time the pain didn’t recede; it stayed there, the pressure enough that he was sure his head was being slowly crushed. He could feel a deep ache in his chest, his mouth tasting of metal, but he forced himself to breathe through it, forced himself to keep the coughing at bay. Jay’s eyes moved away from his again, and he pulled him back.

“ _Look at me_ ,” he hissed.

Jay did, and now there was nothing but fear in his eyes; nothing but desperation. He dropped the camera; Alex heard it slip from his lap, and now Jay’s hand was gripping his wrist instead.

“Don’t let it take me,” Jay wheezed. “Don’t let it take me.”

“I won’t,” Alex promised. “Jay, I won’t. I won’t let it take you.”

“Don’t let it—” Jay began, and then there was nothing.

Blood thick on the floor. Jay’s grip suddenly loose, fingers uncurling from his wrist. His eyes were still on Alex, but the gaze was gone. They were empty, dull; Alex let out a shuddering breath. Whatever was creeping up behind him now, Jay would never see it.

“I wouldn’t,” Alex said quietly. He reached out, touching his fingers against the wound at Jay’s side, finding himself surprised that the blood was still warm. “I didn’t.”

The pain in his head intensified, the sudden rush of a rage that wasn’t his, and the coughs ripped themselves from Alex before he had the chance to try and stop them. Almost immediately he collapsed to the ground, hacking up blood; the pain in his head was blinding, and he thought he was screaming, but he could just as easily have been laughing.


End file.
